I am an evil giraffe. Who no longer blogs about politics.

So. Frank Miller – who has become incredibly, publicly, and gloriously cranky ever since 300 and Sin City gave him sufficient mojo to do so – wrote a little screed called ‘Anarchy‘ that pretty much told the Occupiers to get off of the streets and back into their parents’ basements where they wouldn’t get in the way. As you might imagine, being told off by a comic book writer has annoyed quite a few people – not least the aforementioned Occupiers, given that they don’t want to move back into their parents’ basements (where they belong) – but not everybody took it to the level of Rick Moody.

If you have the time, read the Moody piece: it’ll brighten your day. If you don’t, let me summarize: Rick Moody once wrote a best-selling novel that was turned into a movie with a star-studded cast. Said movie bombed like a 19th Century Anarchist cell, the guy’s never worked in Hollywood since… and sweet merciful monkey JEEBUS but Moody’s bitter about that. And he blames the fascists who rule Hollywood. Which apparently includes James Cameron. Because of Avatar.

(pause)

OK, I’ll give him that one*. But, man, it’s not really America’s fault that people don’t find long stories about clinically depressed people having meaningless affairs against the backdrop of a profoundly unsubtle symbolic weather effect. Folks like a bit of a giggle, or a shudder, or some pyrotechnics, or a little of the old ultraviolence… or, you know, nipple. Get enough of that on the screen at one time and you’ve got box office gold, baby.

But, of course, people like Moody always seem to get it wrong: they think that the populace watches movies that are the opposite of the movies that Moody likes because the populace is brainwashed. I suppose that it’s better than dealing with the possibility that the populace watches movies that are the opposite of the movies that Moody likes because the movies that Moody likes actually suck.

To join the refrain: schmucks.

Moe Lane

*Jimmy. JIMMY! I kid, I kid, man. Have your people call my people. We’ll do lunch.